


50 ways to grow a SeeD

by ButtonWolf



Category: Final Fantasy VIII
Genre: Angst, Gen, Humor, M/M, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-03-16
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2017-11-02 01:29:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 4,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/363500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ButtonWolf/pseuds/ButtonWolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>50 themes challenge. Seifer centric. Post War angst. Posting in sets of five drabbles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One to Five

**Author's Note:**

> Author note: I've been writing these for a while and had them stashed away on my laptop... alas, a few months ago said laptop died a death, and took all of my files with it. Luckily, i had this fic mostly backed up but losing a set of five drabbles annoyed me to the point where i havnt written another since. So, while i was going to wait until i'd finished all 50 prompts to post this... i was hoping posting them now would help me get back on the wagon! I have almost 30 done so far, and i'll be posting in sets of five when i remember/can be bothered.
> 
> Some of these follow on from each other, some dont... but they are all in the same universe and i'm trying to keep them all relatively linked.
> 
> Reviews/Crit is always welcome and Enjoy!

**Making History**

It didn't matter what happened after the war, if he won or lost. Nothing mattered but the dreamy curtain that had been pulled over his subconscious, nothing mattered but her voice. Not the constant pounding in his ears, or the guilt, or the shame. Not the irritating buzzing of his friends, or the never ending slaughter.

They came time and time again, and he died over and over only to be wrenched back into his weary body. It hurt. It was agony.

But it didn't matter.

With the tendrils of her power leeching his brain, Seifer Almasy would make history.

 

**Rivalry**

When he arrived back on Garden's doorstep after almost a year of being classed MIA, battered, thin and weary, Seifer Almasy expected to be imprisoned, charged and hung. What he wasn't prepared for was the welcome, the worry they had had for him, the love. It was too much, and he took to his rooms for months, waiting for it to happen.

Waiting for an end that they wouldn't give him.

Everything that came before was turned upside down, and even the rivalry that he had lived and breathed was nothing more than a trivial daydream.

His punishment was clear.

~~  
~~

**Obsession**

It became routine, or obsession, whatever you could call it. Waiting silently there for him to walk past and scowl and spit vitriol and stomp away again like an angry Moomba.

He was the only part of the past that hadn't changed, hadn't evolved past him and left him behind with his patchy memories in the empty dark. He treated him just the same.

So it was routine, or obsession, to stand and wait and smirk the old smirk as he wandered by, and whisper ridiculous nicknames across the hall, even if the old subtle undertone of malice was gone.

~~  
~~

**Eternity**

The first time Zell Dincht considered that he might be becoming friends with Seifer Almasy, he was on mission, as far from Balamb as it was possible to be.

He missed him.

He missed the biting remarks. He missed the arrogant smirk. Mostly he missed the promise that even when everyone else complained he was loud and annoying, someone cared enough to always pay attention, even if it was negative.

He even fancied he missed his stupid face.

The week dragged on like an eternity, yet when he returned to that smirking glare, it felt like no time at all.

~~  
~~

**Failure**

By the time Squall finally got around to re-admitting Seifer into normal classes, he'd been back almost six months. He was healthier, had gained weight, and Hyperion had been recovered and repaired, so really there was no more excuse. Still, it was a miserable process.

For hours they sat in a cold office, sorting through paperwork, filling forms, going through every single last one of Seifer's previous failures with a fine toothed comb until finally he was given a timetable.

"If you learn to do as you're told… There is no reason for you to fail."

"That's the hard part."


	2. Six to Ten

  **Dead Wrong**

He’d thought once that the orphanage gang hated him. He’d really truly believed it, because he’d never given any of them cause not to. Seifer was many things, and proud was at the top of the list. He was so very wrong.

First Zell wormed his way into his everyday routine, sitting with him at lunch. He clung to him like a lifeline, the only familiar thing in a different world. Then one day, he’d brought Rinoa with him, and then Selphie, and before the month was out, he had the whole lot of them chattering around him. Even Squall.

 

**Judgement**

Life was good. Except when it suddenly wasn’t.

A gang of men from Trabia stumbled across him on the coast, on his way back from visiting Rajin and Fujin, and lucky for them he was unarmed. They set upon him with unforgiving words at first, and then the inevitable fists, and rocks, and whatever else they could grab before he could fight back. He didn’t really try. In some small part of his mind, he‘d already decided he deserved a much harsher judgment.

Seifer told Squall later, in medical bay three, that he’d fought back. They both heard the lie.

 

**Seeking Solstice**

He doesn't remember how he got the black eye, the broken nose; doesn't remember turning up at Zell's door, a plea of “Lemmie stay chicken,” on his lips as he falls onto the bed.

He doesn't remember Zell's grimace or falling asleep curled so tightly against the wall that he wakes later with a fierce crick in his neck as well as a hangover.

He doesn't remember the look on Zell's face because he never sees it. Doesn’t see how Zell traces lines of defeat etched so deeply even in slumber, or how Zell lays awkwardly on the edge of his bed, aware that their friendship isn't supposed to be this close but unable to even contemplate making Seifer leave.

 

**Excuses**

“So you gonna tell me why I woke up to your ugly face this morning?”

Seifer winced through every word at the opposite end of the table, he cradled a mug of coffee preciously. “You always this loud first thing?”

Zell grinned, “You always this wrecked?”

They sat awhile in silence. Seifer looking a little green, Zell slurping down a huge breakfast with abandon.

“I was really drunk.”

“Uh-huh.”

Silence.

“That’s your excuse huh?”

“Yup.”

Truth was, he had a good idea as to why he’d picked Zell’s dorm over his own, but he wasn’t about to admit to it.

 

**Patience**

Seifer’s time passed slowly, and in such regimented segments he thought he might eventually go mad. As the weeks stretched on, sleepless nights increased and his skin sometimes hummed with nervous tension.

Soon… the Garden whispered.

Soon the classes would be over and there would be the exam and he’d either pass or fail and that would be that. The worry of not knowing what would happen if he failed once again was enough to force him into patience. He settled for the endless re-hashing of subjects he already knew, because the terrifying alternative was to face his uncertain future.


	3. Eleven to Fifteen

**Never Again.**

 Every time he promised himself he wouldn’t go back, he found himself outside that familiar door, confronting that familiar disgruntled face. Zell’s tattoo crinkled into odd shapes when he got mad, and even off his tits drunk Seifer found it fascinating. He lay on the sheets, trying to keep focus as Zell ranted. He wasn’t even listening, just watching the black lines dance on his face.

He muttered “You’re gorgeous y’know…” before finally falling asleep. He’d blame it on the booze later.

Zell turned red in the gloom. “I’m never opening my door to you again, asshole!”

“W’s a compliment.”

**33%**

The SeeD exam was sometimes difficult to put into practice. In peace time, the lack of any challenging missions meant cadets could sometimes be waiting years for an opportunity to present itself. When there was a suitable conflict to test the cadets with, only 33% of all students passed. Seifer wished it was peace time.The statistic combined with his track record was enough to turn his stomach at the thought. Pretending he didn’t care was becoming hard work.

Later, afterwards, he stood with the others, shuffling, looking pale, chewing fingernails. Only 33%. Squall called his name.

He threw up.

**Party.**

 The collar chafed. No one ever told him that the uniform was so damned uncomfortable. Seifer pulled at his neck for the millionth time and had his hands swatted by an equally dressed Zell.

“Quit fidgeting, this party is for you dickhead.”

“Yes mother.”

They lurked on the edge of the dance floor, sipping at their free champagne. Seifer was longing to duck out onto the balcony for a cigarette, while Zell bounced from foot to foot. Probably wishing he was out there with the other whirling couples, and yet unwilling to leave his side.

It was a good party.

**Seeing Red.**

Zell couldn’t have anticipated the sudden rush of jealousy he’d feel at seeing Seifer laughing with some girl in a Balamb café.

His mind immediately ran in circles, processing everything from ‘Since when did I care?’ all the way up to a very whiny ‘But he’s my friend!’

The few seconds of irrational anger were almost enough for him to stomp over there and break up their little date, until Irvine, forgotten beside him, rested a calming hand on his shoulder and pulled him away. It didn’t sink in until later, that their grudging friendship wasn’t really grudging at all.

**Boundaries.**

Another night, another knock at the door.

Zell reluctantly let him into his bed once more, and muttered the now traditional “You better not barf Almasy.”

He woke to the prickling heat of breath, wrapped in strong arms at his middle. Fingers idly toyed at the edge of his shirt, gently tickling his belly. Zell fought the instinct to bolt. Arms wrapped tighter, and a nose nuzzled into the soft hair at his nape. A change in pressure on his back finally broke Zell’s tentative control, and he shot out of bed, Seifer blinking in sleepy confusion.

“Boundaries Almasy! Boundaries!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many many thanks to everyone who has left Kudos, commented or even just read this! <3 <3


	4. Sixteen to Twenty

**Bitter Silence**

Zell was avoiding him.

The blatancy of it was making Seifer twitchy. He was angry, at himself for letting it get to him, and at Zell for being so upset over… whatever it was he had done. Zell was nowhere to be found.

Walking around Garden became a source of tortuous anticipation. He strode across the lobby and felt his pulse quicken. He walked the corridors and his hands shook. The quad brought him out in an embarrassing flush.

Making it to his dorm every evening with no interruption was an overwhelming disappointment.

Day; an angry suspense. Night; bitter silence.

 

 

* * *

 

 

**Versus**

Seifer had his smirk on, walls up, arrogant swagger firmly in place and it looked for all the world like he was itching to punch Squall in the face. Unusual only because it hadn’t happened in a while.

“Fight me princess,” Seifer spat through gritted teeth.

“Have you ever noticed you only want to spar when you’re upset?”

The question surprised him, and it took a moment to process. “Why would I be upset?”

Squall seemed to contemplate for a few seconds, his grey eyes narrowing a fraction. His answer set Seifer charging at him, blade raised, eyes wild.

 “Zell.”

 

* * *

 

  **Answers**

The grey utilitarian cells of the disciplinary block gave a person time to contemplate, focus on the issues that made them act out in the first place. At least, that was what Squall had said as he escorted Seifer to the cell at the end.

Seifer refused to contemplate anything. When Squall returned the next morning, asking for an excuse for his behaviour, Seifer blamed it on the guilt, blamed it on the attack all those months ago, blamed it on nightmares and lingering hatred of himself. He’d rather admit to those undignified things than admit he might be pining.

 

* * *

 

**Reality**

Two days suspension and a weeks docked pay later, Zell bounced into Seifer’s room, threw himself into bed and made himself comfortable as though nothing had happened.

“Where the fuck have you been?!”

“On mission, duh… didn’t I tell you?”

Seifer growled.

“Miss me?” Zell flashed a wicked grin, daring him to admit to it.

“You…” He pointed an accusing finger, but suddenly didn’t know what to say. In the end he settled for shoving up against Zell in the bed, being careful with his hands and immediately fell into the first good nights sleep he’d had in a fortnight.

 

 

* * *

 

**A Moment in Time**

Sleepy, contented morning, hushed whispers in the pillows.

“You’re getting handsy again.”

He cracked an eye, squinting at the back of Zell’s head. “That’s not even a word.”

“Is so.” Zell yawned, wiggling around to face him. “Horny?”

That warranted another quick squint in the early morning gloom. “Not for you chicken.”

“Hope not.” Zell muttered, settling against his shoulder. “M’not into you.”

“Cuddle much?” He smirked into his hair, squeezing closer as he felt Zell tense. “Wasn’t complaining.”

It was the easy intimacy that finally lured the confession from his lips.

“I missed you too shithead.” The murmured reply.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many many thanks to everyone who has left Kudos or commented! <3


	5. TwentyOne to TwentyFive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear i am still alive! Promise! Even if University has eaten what is left of my free time... If anyone is still reading this, i love you! <3

**Dangerous Territory**

 

Seifer hastily scribbled notes on a report while Quistis supervised. She took the opportunity to quiz him.

“About Zell…”

“Hmn?”

“You seem close...”

He gave a look that should have told her to drop the subject.

“I’m concerned…” She continued, ignoring Seifer’s obvious discomfort.

Fuck it. If his notes were illegible and his pen rendered unusable, it wasn’t his fault. If Quistis happened to get her eye stuck on the end of it, that wasn’t his fault either.

“If you and Zell are…”

“Fucking?”

Quistis was unfazed. “I doubt you would be so caustic if you were.”

The pen snapped.

 

* * *

 

 

**Simplicity**

 

The heating was broken. Seifer didn’t need to go outside to see his breath fog. He sat on the floor wrapped in a blanket with a dog eared novel and Zell leaning against his legs.

Seifer liked the silence. Zell didn’t.

Zell happily blabbered on, talking of recent adventures with his friends, laughing about Selphie’s infatuation with Squall’s dad. All shit Seifer couldn’t give a crap about. He listened anyway.

Hours later, Seifer was silently inventing ways of shutting him up. Gagging certainly had its appeal, but kissing the words right out of his mouth sounded simpler.

He resisted. Just.

 

* * *

 

 

**Between the lines**

 

“I hate you” No longer meant what it should. The words seemed warmer somehow, softer. Spoken in hushed tones across flushed skin, or with a slight brush of fingers, a thousand intimate moments that were so minute, so insubstantial, they barely felt real.

He was surprised and delighted and horrified when “I hate you too” first sounded different on his lips. Subtext enough to sink Fisherman’s Horizon. Heavy with the unsaid.

Days followed one another much the same as ever, but suddenly so full. So alive.

Seifer could stay like this forever, ignoring the ever growing connection between the lines.

 

* * *

 

 

**Troubling Thoughts**

 

It was warm close to the huge flight generators. Zell sat with Irvine slouched beside him, Selphie draped across both their laps like a cat.

“So where is Almasy today?”

“Out.” Zell shrugs. Not sure if their curiosity should freak him out. The twin engines behind the campus gossip network

Selphie flutters her lashes. “Do you miss him?”

Should he? It was only an afternoon… Zell ponders the question seriously, missing the gentle tease.

Irvine smirks knowingly and Zell can’t help but think Seifer’s smirk is sexier. The stray thought causing his brain to shudder to a sudden car-crash halt.

 

* * *

 

 

 

**Exploration**

 

Their first day off in months, and Zell insists on dragging Seifer to a bar for drinks and dancing. Seifer likes the sound of drinks but dancing feels like something one of the girls would want to do… he vows to stay glued to his seat regardless of any begging or puppy eyes Zell might subject him to.

He manages to keep to his seat, but later when they fall into bed, tipsy and flushed, lips give in to lazy explorations. The memory is hot and blurred and Seifer is pretty sure he did something stupid like fall in love.

 

 


	6. TwentySix to Thirty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm hugely aware that its been forever since i updated... I'm so sorry for that! It takes me a long time to find time these days, but i'll always keep working! Thank you, if you are still along for the ride.

**Frost**

Seifer wakes alone in the cold winter morning. Pale light filters through thin curtains and paints the room grey. He still has his pants on at least, proving that his ill timed kisses hadn’t resulted in an even bigger mistake. The empty side of the bed is still warm, still smells faintly of spice and fruity hair gel.

Zell had at least waiting until morning to bolt.

Seifer decides getting out of bed isn’t going to stop the tight feeling in his chest, so he stays there, staring at the ceiling. Just another frosty morning, another birthday full of regret.

 

* * *

 

 

**Innocence**

Nervous Zell talks at a 100mph.

“Ok, I know I shouldn’t have ran off nor nothin, but you kinda freaked me out ok? I mean we’ve been… weird lately but, I dunno, I wasn’t expectin you to just kiss me and stuff. It was all sudden and shit! And ok, I didn’t really fight you off but dude… I was drunk and you were drunk and is that all it was? Like a wibbly mistake? Cause I don’t like the idea of that… Not that I... but… well… uhh… Can we do it again?”

A shell shocked Seifer just nods.

 

* * *

 

 

**Slow Down**

“You need to stop doing that…” Seifer’s voice was a rough almost-whisper in the dark.

“Really…” Zell wasn’t listening, too busy trying to nibble every inch of collar bone his mouth could find. Discovering it as a sensitive weak point and taking full advantage, Seifer desperately clinging to the edge beneath him.

“Dincht I swear to god if you don’t slow down I’m gonna end up doing something…” He let out an unintentional moan as Zell groped under his shirt, his pants… Zell pulled away then, leaving his lips swollen, his body on fire.

“You said to stop…” Zell teased.

 

* * *

 

 

**Separation**

Missions, even short hops to the other side of the island like this one, had begun to take on interesting new flavours of misery. The distance between them may as well have been gaping, it wouldn’t have changed the fact that Seifer could no longer concentrate on anything but the excitable bundle of energy that was finally, if secretly, his.

It wasn’t exactly bliss; Slicing through endless swarms of bite bugs, sleeping in a shitty tent… but it might have come close if Zell were with him. Seifer was on auto pilot. Fighting, training, daydreaming…

“Fuck. I am so whipped…”

 

* * *

 

 

**Possession**

Stolen moments in-between trips out; Seifer pinning Zell to the bed, the wall, the inside of a random closet, Squall’s desk… He’d kept a list. He hadn’t managed to get in his pants yet, but he was doing a thorough job of marking up his neck, his shoulders, anywhere he could reach while Zell still refused to get naked. He was immensely proud of each and every mark he left, each and every blemish.

Zell secretly thought he had a biting fetish. Seifer secretly (childishly) didn’t want anyone else trying to take what was his. They were marks of ownership.

 

 

* * *

 


	7. ThirtyOne to ThirtyFive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you SO much if you are still reading these. I am hugely grateful to anyone who takes the time to read and/or comment. I have about 8 of these left to write now... and i'm churning through them again while i have a bit of time. 2017 will be the year i finish this! Thanks for sticking with me ^_~
> 
> Anyway.
> 
> Angst... Sorry... (not sorry)

**31\. Shadows**

There were still times, odd little cycles in fact, when the nightmares came to steal away at whatever peace Seifer could find.

They crept upon him silently, leeching into his heart and mind like the last tendrils of Ultimacia’s dark magic. His nights spent tossing and turning on twisted sheets, his days a blur of unhappy thoughts, dark circles under his eyes.

He put on a calm façade, hiding his problems from those around him just as he always had. It was none of their business… Except, now… He had to admit it sort of was.

The thought terrified him.

 

* * *

 

 

 

**32\. Exhaustion**

Seifer lived a dizzy haze of meetings and simple missions and training, with stolen kisses like bright bursts of energy dotted between it all. Memories of those months spent in Her company made him nauseous, rising up at odd moments whenever they pleased. The anniversary was fast approaching. He couldn’t ignore it even if he wanted.

Zell fussed and fretted and had already guessed the reason behind the miserable mood that had descended, but stayed mute.He tried to kiss the memories away, tried to smooth away the exhaustion in his lovers face as he fell into bed beside him.

 

* * *

 

 

 

**33\. Breaking away**

The anniversary had passed but Seifer seemed to sag in on himself. Seifer seemed happy to ignore, while Zell silently stewed. Silence that had once seemed comfortable was now a tangible tension.

“We’re friends right?” Zell asked quietly.

“Yeah, friends who dry hump when no ones looking.” Seifer replied sardonically.

Zell ignored the comment. “Why wont you just talk to me? Maybe I could help…”

“Nothing to tell Chickie.” He sighed.

“I’m starting to think you don’t care about anything.”

“Maybe I don’t.”

“So why am I here?”

“Good question.”

Zell swallowed around the lump in his throat and left.

 

* * *

 

 

**34\. Lesson**

It’s barely 24 hours before he’s thundering into Zell’s dorm with the usual amount of posturing and demands that they make up.

“You already know I’m an asshole.”

Zell doesn’t say anything, arms crossed and brows drawn.

“You like me that way.” His tone is arrogant. Petulant even. An almost forgotten persona that is surprisingly simple to slip back into despite Zell’s refusal to play the game. “What the fuck do you want from me?”

Seifer darts a nervous look at him when he doesn’t say anything and finally, Zell relents.

“You could try not being an asshole.”

“Teach me.”

 

* * *

 

 

**35\. Knowing How**

It’s hard to know where to begin. Zell wants a proper apology or a declaration of intent, it’s clear. Unfortunately Seifer’s pride is causing a firm block on that particular confession.

They agree to be friends for a while, even though the thought of such distance between them makes his skin crawl with self-loathing. But it’s hard to know how to even begin again. Hard to admit that he lashed out because he was afraid.

Their meetings are awkward and strained. The comfort of their previous encounters miserably absent, but he’ll take it. He deserves nothing better. That he knows.

 

 

 

 


	8. ThirtySix to Forty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So close to the end now...

**Echoes**

 

The mission was simple. Retrieve the potential sorceress. Draw points had been misfiring for months but the damage assumed accidental. So of course it all goes to hell.

Seifer is strictly support only. He’s content with that, provided he doesn’t have to get close. But even meters back, he can feel the unnatural prickling of her magic. He swallows down his nausea even as he fires Firaga across her twisted face. Her hatred is a tangible thing. Squall moves to end it. Her power pulses outward in one final blast. Echoes ricochet through Seifer’s mind. The dark drags him under.

 

* * *

 

 

**Everything For You**

 

Med bay three used to be a familiar place. He’d almost forgotten the sterile empty walls and the stench of antiseptic wipes. He’s technically not injured, but they insist on him staying for the night. Zell sneaks past the nurses’ station a little after midnight and then it doesn’t seem like such a punishment. He’s had time to think though, all those hours alone. And all the months before.

“If I had a do-over… Ultimacia…”

“You don’t owe me an explanation-”

“I’d do it again if it meant this, with you. I’d do it again for you.”

Silence.

“I’m sorry.”

 

* * *

 

 

  **Unsettling Revelations**

 

Seifer was too tired to stand, too pig-headed to sit in the offered chair. He’d been out, gotten drunk, gotten into a fight, before coming to bleed on Squall’s immaculate carpet. Squall glared.

“Disciplinary. I know.”

“I don’t actually hate you. You’ve gone through hell’n back and sorted yourself out. I admire that.”

The nausea was overwhelming.

“Your pride is getting in the way of your thing with Zell…”

“There is no thing!”

“…and if you don’t let it go, you’ll just keep crashing like this. I don’t want that.” He booped a finger at Seifer’s nose. “Let. It. Go.”

 

* * *

 

 

**Only Human**

 

“Mandatory psych evaluation.” Quistis intones from across the desk.

“Again? You serious?”

“Zell told me you think you are a murderer.”

“Dincht talks shit all the time.”

Quistis’s mouth is a thin line. “We both know that’s not true when it comes to you.”

Seifer doesn’t deny it. “I’ve worked my ass off for you. What more do you want?!”

“It’s only human to find things difficult after-”

Seifer thunders out of the office like a black cloud. When he pushes into Zell’s dorm, it’s with the intention of shouting bloody murder at him. Instead;

“I fucking love you, ok?!”

 

* * *

 

 

**Breakfast**

 

Green eyes open to soft light, even softer touches. There are hands, skin and whispered confessions, but also morning breath, a need to pee and rumbling bellies. Its imperfect in its perfection. Zell drags him out of bed with sloppy kisses and promises of caffine, and Seifer lets him. He lets him drive the morning because hes done running away from happiness.

At some point there is a café, plates loaded with breakfast, the aforementioned caffine. He’s well aware that they are displaying a level of PDA bordering on the obscene, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing else matters. Just this.

 

 

 


End file.
